#Long post whoops

[hecateisalesbian]

i was just wondering how grimwalkers worked exactly? I've been around the fandom enough to know that Hunter is one, but is it like a clone type situation? and yes, you do get the title of "official toh person" in my mind!!

Loving how you ask like the one thing I put the least amount of research into 😭

In this shot we can see a recipe or “cookbook” of grimwalkers which can give us a lot of clues.

A galderstone (heart and power)

palistrom wood (keratin)

stonesleeper lungs

selkidomous scales

bones of ORTET

of course there’s little scribbles of words that are also probably important scattered around the page but this is the decipherable part.

The galderstone itself had a whole episode (Through the Looking Glass Ruins if I remember correctly) in which we saw how its power could be used. The Galderstone (in my theory) channels the power from all the other magical items enough to make them work in harmony and create a functioning clone but not enough (either from the weakness of the galderstone or the fact that those items alone don’t possess the same magic as a bile sac) to give a grimwalkers it’s own magic (hence artificial staff for Hunter before he met Flap).

Palistrom Wood has many episodes showing how it’s used and its importance. On the cookbook it’s listed for Keratin. Keratin is what’s makes your hair, nails, and skin. (“Keratin is a protein that helps form hair, nails and your skin's outer layer (epidermis). It helps support your skin, heal wounds and keep your nails and hair healthy. ”) So palistrom wood is like the outer workings of a grimwalker. Giving it a more human/witchy like look instead of a weird jumble of magic ingredients. We’ve seen that palistrom wood functions in magical ways (see string bean) so I wouldn’t be surprised if perhaps it was also the muscle of a grimwalker. What makes it move.

Stonesleeper lungs don’t seem to have any specific use listed. However, in Elsewhere and Elsewhen, we know that the Stonesleeper found in the Titans Skull had been hibernating for a (very) long time. I think the Stonesleeper lungs are what allows grimwalkers to grow in the dirt for years before being used (see For the Future goopy Belos trying to possess a remaining clone which rises from a dirt bed). Selkidomous scales also don’t have a use listed. Selkidomous’s however had two facts revealed about them in Separate Tides. Their puke (?) is extremely rare and high valued, and that they can swim in the boiling sea (most likely one of the only animals able to do so). I doubt the selkidomous’s gold puke would have much use to making a clone, especially considering how the value of it could’ve gone up or down since Belos began creating grimwalkers like 300 ish years ago (also I doubt Belos wrote that cookbook himself so I wouldn’t be surprised if making grimwalkers is a practice hundreds or thousands of years old). So I think their scales are used as a protection of some sort. After all, if they can survive the boiling sea they can survive multiple things on land. I think these might’ve doubled in use for a sort or keratin like usage.

Finally, Bones of ORTET. The word ortet is written in a strange way compared to the rest of the text. But a quick search on the Google Web says this:

So, essentially, “the original of the clone”. What does a human body have a lot of that doesn’t decay quickly? Bones. Over 200 of them. Over two hundred possibilities of grimwalkers over hundreds of years. I’m sure the boiling isles/Belos made lots of discoveries about bones and the true potential of them when making grimwalkers that we don’t know that would make a very easy cloning process but I think these bones would be combined with other bones or perhaps had the DNA/marrow (idk I’m not a doctor I’m using words I’ve seen in greys anatomy for this) sucked (?) out of it and combined with other listed ingredients to make a “test tube baby” from which it could be planted in the ground like a seed and left to grow for years. I don’t know how long or how Belos would explain for the lack of memory in Caleb Clones time in the dirt, but in For the Future the Caleb Clone that rises and then decays looks about the same age as Hunter. Darius also says he knew Hunters predecessor (Darius is 40 ish). So I doubt grimwalkers grow in the dirt any longer than 15 years, and gaps in memory I’m sure are replaced with fake ones by Belos or said to be amnesia from a childhood trauma.

I would dive into the graphic on the left page of the cookbook buts it’s too blurry and vague for me to truly make out a good theory.

There are most likely more ingredients than just those few but I think those are the most important ones. Also, when Flapjack gives his life for hunters (😭), Hunter gains the natural magic ability of regular palistrom wood, much like Belos used the magic from palismen to keep his false magic working and also to keep him from turning into goo. Palistrom woods is definitely a powerful source of magic, if not the most powerful source of magic, second to maybe a Titan.

So yes, a Grimwalker is essentially a clone made from the DNA of something/someone and with other magical ingredients. Though it’s definitely not a perfect cloning device, seeing the multiple variations Belos’s grimwalkers had and Belos saying “you look the most like him.” Anyways that’s my take hope it helps! If you have more questions I will be happy to answer :D

[rulesofdisorder]

hey everyone it is once again Aedion Ashryver Defense Time brought to you by the fact that i have seen yet another Aedion bashing video on tiktok.

So let’s again run through the reasons that i think Aedions actions in both Empire of Storms and in Kingdom of Ash were, if not justifiable (which i think they were), completely understandable.

We will begin with why I think it is utter bullshit that Aelin never told Aedion any of her plans. Aedion is a well respected and well fought General who has been fighting for their country since he was around 13/14 years old. You cannot reach that level of military leadership at as young of an age that he did, despite being an enemy prince, (i believe he was General by the time he was 16/17 but don’t quote me i might be wrong) without being damn good at military strategy. Even though Aedion has all of these qualifications, Aelin never once told him a plan. When he yelled at her in Empire of Storms it was because he believed that the only army that they had to fight for Terrasen was the Bane, Aedions army of allies and friends that he has gathered over the years. Us as readers eventually find out that Aelin had reached out to her own allies that she gathered but didn’t want to tell anyone because she “didn’t want to let anyone down if they didn’t show” which is a bullshit excuse I think. There is no reason that you should not tell your General your war strategy plans or the number of allies you may or may not have. And it is worth remembering that Aedion is not just the General of her armies but also her cousin. So of all people she really didn’t have to worry about letting him down. He would have understood if she had just told him.

Next we will be discussing Aelin and Lysandras stupid plan that is reveled at the end of Empire of Storms. (something that I have already made several posts about so if this sounds familiar i apologize)

So, Aelin and Lysandra have the brilliant idea to make a plan that states that if Aelin is killed or captured, Lysandra will shapeshift to look like Aelin and lead in her place. They will then have Aedion have kids with Lysandra in order to pass them off as Lysandra and Rowan’s because he looks just like Aelin so there would be no question of the childrens parentage and the royal bloodline can continue without Aelin.

They made this plan without even consulting Aedion. Despite a large portion of the plan involving him having children and then giving them up to he raised by Lysandra, the woman Aedion loves, and Rowan, his cousins mate and husband as well as a man that Aedion considers a brother. I don’t know about the rest of you but i would be furious. Aedion will be forced to have kids that he can’t even call his own and he has absolutely no say in the matter. I don’t know why these women who have had their choices taken from them time and time again thought that this would be a good idea.

I would also like to note that literally anyone who spends even a second of time in Aedions presence knows that he has some of the worst parental issues and trauma that i have ever seen. A huge obstacle in Aedions life has been him not knowing who his father was. His mother not telling anyone who his father was got them both kicked out of the Ashryver family and got him sent off to Terrasen, a complete other continent, after his mothers death to be raised by Aelins parents, the only people who would take him in. And they think he’s just going to be okay with the fact that he will have to have children and then not raise them or call them his own? It’s insensitive and completely over looks his trauma. (This also explains his hesitation to allow Gavriel into his life once he finds out that Gavriel is his father.)

Throughout the series Aelin has consistently not told Aedion huge important things some being:

1. Not telling Aedion that she had given the blood oath to Rowan, despite there being opportunities to say so, thus allowing Rowan to drop it casually in conversation, and resulting in Aedion finding out about it in a rather not good way.

2. Not telling Aedion about the armies she was trying to gather despite him being the General of Terrasen.

3. Not telling him about the plan that involved him having children with Lysandra to pass off as Aelin and Rowan’s.

Given all of these reasons, i think it is perfectly reasonable that Aedion is angry and frustrated and mean at the end of Empire of Storms and throughout Kingdom of Ash. I would have been worse actually.

And I have mentioned in a previous post that I truly don’t think Aedion was all that angry at Lysandra, he was angry at Aelin. But Aelin just sacrificed herself for them all and might never come back and Lysandra is there and wearing Aelins face so Lysandra gets the full force of his anger at both of them, which is unfair but also understandable.

I would also like to point out that Aedion is one of, if not the, only character in the series who consistently apologizes for his actions or feels remorseful.

He apologizes to Aelin after he gets mad about the blood oath and he apologizes to Lysandra for yelling at her and treating her poorly in Kingdom of Ash. And yet he is the only one that the fandom doesn’t forgive (it could be argued that the fandom also doesn’t forgive Chaol which i also think is kinda dumb but that’s the topic for a different post)

People say that they think Aedion was acting out of character in Kingdom of Ash and i don’t think that’s the case. I think people just didn’t pay attention to his character or motivations previously.

I think that Aedion is the most human character in the books because he has flaws and doesn’t always react in the most story-convenient ways. I think that a lot of people would react the same way as he does, myself included, had they been in his position.

[gliyerabaa]

For fanfic writer asks: 8 and 17 :D

8. What projects are you currently working on?

Ahhhh i LOVE getting to talk about my projects!!!!!!!! <3

Per Aspera Ad Astra: Also known as the kansas au, this has been my pride and joy over the past 4 1/2 years. The premise of the fic is essentially capturing the experience of growing up queer in rural america. I've posted 23 chapters but I have the entire fic outlined, it's just a matter of writing it. I'm probably about halfway to two-thirds way done with the fic. It's been a beast but like I said earlier, it really is my pride and joy

Thank Goodness (smutfic series): Currently only a oneshot but I plan to add one or two more installments in the series. What I intended to be a quick, slightly smutty character study on Glinda accidentally turned into 6k of messy, raw gelphie smut. Definitely my best interpretation of the canon gelphie dynamic, both in terms of emotional dynamics and how that carries over into the smut. I'm really proud of this fic, it's definitely getting a sequel and maybe even a part 3

untitled gelphie 'wedding' series: this one is still a true WIP. I was reading a few scholarly journals about queer themes in the stage version of Wicked and how it both adheres to and subverts typical midcentury theatre tropes. For example, so many 'traditional' musicals end in the marriage of the two leads, and 'For Good' can be seen as the fulfillment of that trope when viewed through a queer lens. I adored that analysis and it's inspired me to create a sort of miniseries exploring those themes a little more. it's a fun idea, and I have some outline framework going, we'll see if anything comes of it

17. What's something you've learned about while doing research for a fic?

Honestly, I haven't done a ton of research for Wicked fics due to the fictional nature of the world. Years and years ago I wrote a lot of Frozen fics so I had done a lot of extensive research on Norwegian/Scandinavian culture.

WAIT no duh, I've done SO MUCH research for Per Aspera Ad Astra!!!!!!!!!!! Including:

researching different high schools in Kansas (to come up with ideas for a mascot for the fictional Tri-City high school)

learning the state motto of Kansas (it's Ad Astra Per Aspera, which I stole and rearranged for my fic title, and I think I'm so clever for that)

also the state flower of Kansas is the sunflower and the state bird is the western meadowlark and the state mammal is the bison but those have yet to be relevant to the story

deep dives into the climate and weather patterns in Kansas (I have a tab saved on my phone's weather app for a city in Kansas in the approximate location I imagine the fictional town of Shiz to be. I check it regularly)

about three different drafts for the Road Trip in chapters 20 onwards. like extensive planning of how long to drive, where to stop, etc. etc.

research into radio stations in Western Colorado for That One Scene in ch. 20

extensive research into colleges in California, including which ones have good architecture programs since it's canon in this fic that Glinda is an architecture nerd

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Another wigfrid headcanon from the Wigfrid guy? [rattles cup of spare change]

Anon, for asking w/o me even reblogging my headcanon post i am going to gift to you... one of my most favoritest of all my horribly self indulgent hcs. regarding the wacky relationship between Wig and Throned Max

Of course, back then Wigfrid could certainly claimed she hated him… But to claim that he didn't… 'help' her- even post his little 'gift' of her entry ticket to that domain- would be a bold faced lie.

Being one of the first survivors to ever enter the Constant- maybe even the first (I sure as hell like to think she was, lol)- Maxwell was a little bit more loose in his own self imposed rules regarding royalty mingling about with pawns.

He didn't really intend to make a habit of chatting much with her. But every time he made a grand entrance- every time he chided her with a little remark or two- she always had something to say… Always had some little spiel to go off on. At first it was confusing, even a little bit annoying, really. What gave her the permission to have the last laugh? He was the one who held all the strings. He was the one who was King!

But as time passed, and as his life sentence being throned continued to stretch on, and especially as he eventually brought in more survivors, he almost came to… value it, oddly enough. Interacting with someone who saw him as less of their torturer and more of their adversary. Someone who's threats at least carried poise and wit, with a thespian air that always shook things up a bit when compared to the others' (there's only so many "i'll tear you apart"s and "you're a big stupid jerk"s you can stand before they start to get… dry. At least she got creative with it).

While it's incredibly easy to genuinely rile Wigfrid up if you know what buttons to push (and of course he knows what buttons to push. He knows everything- her name, her past, her biggest insecurities. He's King), he only really stooped to those measures whenever he was feeling exceedingly bored (or just exceedingly cruel). More often than not, all of his sardonic remarks would be angled at the persona rather than the person. It was always just much more interesting that way.

Once, after a rather bullheadish death (that she perhaps could have avoided by fleeing, had her pride not gotten in the way), he made sure to comment on it as he leered overtop of her reanimated body… That perhaps she should have learned when it was best to turn tail and live to speak of it… But, of course, that would have been asking too much of such a valiant Valkyrie, wouldn't it?

… It was meant to be a jab. Another one of his little zingers. A classic Maxwell Moment, if you will. But before dusk had set, she'd adopted the title as her own- a little spit in his face. To this day, 'Valiant Valkyrie' is tacked onto the end of every introduction she gives.

As for Wigfrid herself, though the man had been much a source of strife for the entirety of her solo journey… To see another human in a place devoid of company- to speak, and to be spoken to… She'd assuredly be far worse off had she not had him to keep her mind sharp, and her goal clear.

It was a little bit of mutual theater kid enrichment, if you will. Eventually, with the more strength he lost, Maxwell grew tired of his silly little antagonist visits. But by that point it didn't really matter when he had Wilson and his progress to concern himself with.

Of course, she would never outwardly confess to it… To the fact that without his 'aid'- as unorthodox as it was- she may have wound up differently than the person the Constant molded her into. But that doesn't mean she doesn't know that it's true.

[papersnatch]

rain world if it was good

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[feather-bone]

[ID: an illustration of a pink mantis facing to the right, on a teal background with pink petals and green leaves. End.]

Orchid mantis! Adapted to camouflage amongst orchid flowers and ambush pollinators with swift arms and a powerful bite.

[cosmicwhoreo]

due to the requests of a very SPECIFIC and might I add, MANIPULATIVE Grim Reaper I loathe to call a friend that I will not name- I was asked to doodle my own version of Herobrine for their B day. And I couldn't stop after that-

Tl;Dr- damn you @grimmixxart

[awkwardpossum0]

[doodlewizardry]

Have you ever wanted to find your old Ao3 comments? Easily keep track of which (and how many) fics you've commented on? Rediscover a fic that you left a time capsule of a gushing essay on?

Well, you can! And it's simple! (* Note: it only works for comments written after you turn this on.)

Go to your Preferences:

There's a checkbox labelled "Turn off copies of your own comments". This is selected by default. If you deselect it (and save your preferences) then you receive an email for every comment you leave.

But I don't want to get my inbox flooded by Ao3!

Understandable! Luckily, most email clients allow you to set up rules for incoming mail depending on their sender and contents. For instance (using Gmail), I've made it so that these emails skip the inbox, are marked as read, and moved to a label I call my "Comment Collection".

The result? A complete, organised and fully-searchable repository of any comments you leave from this point onwards! Search by fic name, author, date, that one sentence you vividly remember leaving!

I've set up other rules, too, like starring emails that are replies to my comments - I'm always excited to receive them!

I love this system, and I think it's motivated me to leave more comments. I hope that others find it useful too. Happy commenting!

Original preferences trick from this Reddit thread. Tagging @justleaveacommentfest, which motivated me to write this post!

[aipurjopa]

BURN MY SOUL

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Fishing Interlude

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[meyerlansky]

CURT BIDDICK in MASTERS OF THE AIR, PART ONE ↳ that's where i'm goin'.

[thecindercrow]

Think about it, Robin. Man has always looked up at the moon and thought... "Can you eat it?" No, "Can you walk on it?"

[nartothelar]

But for the vampire au, have you considered Emmet getting Severely Hurt™️ and Ingo turning him to keep his brother alive?

Or do they have an agreement to just let things happen?

“No.” Emmet responds simply, decisively.

The answer is expected and yet, the disappointment Ingo feels is an unwelcome heaviness, his constant frown turning genuine without it meaning to.

Ingo had asked the very same question thrice times now.

Once was when they were kids. It was casual inquiry that came with little prompting; he had asked out of curiosity more than anything. Ingo had asked Emmet after they had defeated a trio of challengers off hand. Emmet had laughed, light and airy, when he answered. They had gotten ice cream using their winnings after.

The second time had been following a much more harrowing experience. A safety check forgotten, a simple mistake by a depot agent newly hired, had resulted in a derailed train. Fortunately only a few were injured. Unfortunately, one of those few was Emmet.

Ingo had asked him with bags under his eyes, something quite silly since Ingo didn’t even need to sleep. (Was that makeup? Emmet had joked with an exhausted smile.)

Emmet, laying in that hospital bed, IV's in his arm and a cask around his left leg, had responded much the same, a chuckle rather than a laugh. Perhaps his headache had come back to manage much more than that. Ingo didn’t attempt to change his mind and offered him the chicken noodle soup Elesa had brought for him.

And the third time was right now: Ingo sitting across from Emmet in the dining room of their shared apartment. It was morning and even though the windows curtains were drawn, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. In front of his brother was a plate of eggs and toast, him nursing a cup of black coffee. In front of Ingo was just a cup of tea, untouched and cooling.

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

The way he asks shows his cards far to easily. Whoever had said Subway Boss Ingo was hard to read must have not tried at all.

His brother looks at him, assessing him, and then looks away.

Emmet is silent for a minute, simply gazing at the cup in front of him. His food was getting cold.

Most would think Emmet was being hesitant when answering, that this was a sign he didn’t want to answer at all. But Ingo knows him well. He knows he wants to go over what he will day and that he voices his thoughts properly.

Ingo is patient and waits. Finally, Emmet answers.

“I like the sun.” His brother says, looking at him. The color of his eyes haven’t dulled all these years. “It feels warm on my skin. It feels good.”

“I love eating. The taste, the action. Yup!" Emmet picks at his plate with a hum. "I want to eat what I like, when I like."

“I like my independence." Ingo's tea leaves an ashy taste as he sips it - a floral chamomile bag floats at the bottom of it. "I do not want to be dependent on others. I do not want to be dependent on things out of my control."

"I know that I will have to sometimes." Emmet really looks at him now. "And that is ok. But I still feel the same way.”

Ingo squeezes his mug, before he relaxes his grip. Emmet notices.

Emmet lays his palm on his chest, closing it into a fist near the middle.

“I like being human.” It sounds final, the words like a gavel to wood, the way it echoes in his mind. “I do not want to be a vampire.”

Ingo wants to argue. To convince him that the pros outweigh the insignificant cons, but he does not. No. Usually Ingo is more eloquent with his words, but the fear that rises up in his throat makes his usually well thought out words more brisk, more succinct, more honest as he says the obvious.

“But you are aging.” Ingo says. You are dying, Ingo tries, fails, and a refrains to add.

Ingo hands are smooth, his face without a wrinkle. He looks as the same as he as when he first became a subway boss. He has since he was sent to Hisui. Forever youthful. And Emmet.

Emmet's hands are calloused, wrinkled from years of maintenance at gear station. His hair is thinning and his temples were turning white. His stride not as brisk as it was years ago.

“I am.” Emmet replies. “And I will continue to age.”

Ingo knows Emmet. He is stubborn, just like himself. That is how he is. He knows he will not change his mind. And that makes him clench his jaw, look down at his cup with furrowed brow.

“Ingo.”

Ingo snaps his head up, fear turning to anger that makes him feel sick. He should not be angry, but he is.

“Then you plan to reach your final stop?” Emmet’s smile dims. Ingo continues anyway. “Leave this station?” Without me? Ingo clamps down before he utters the accusation.

“You....you will have me wait here for you to die? And do nothing?!”

And there it is. Ingo barring his greatest fear since he got turned. The thing that has plaguing his mind since he stood at the grave of his old clan leader in Hisui, at the cemetery where his other wardens were laid to rest. What he had realized as he saw time passes by, years of constant goodbyes and tearful farewells.

It was that, no matter how grand his ideals, the simple truth of the matter was that he was utterly powerless to the passage of time.

Ingo doesn't realize that he has stood up until he is already towering over Emmet's seated form. His fangs barred and he suspects his eyes are slits.

And despite that, Emmet looks calm. He looks...sad.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Ingo says softly, deflated as the anger leaves his body. To live on as those around him pass. To see enjoy his life without the people he cares most around him.

Ingo feels arms wrap around him and he wraps trembling arms around Emmet too, his head laying on his shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, simply holding each other, not letting go.

"I'm sorry I never gave you the choice." Emmet finally says. Ingo's hands grip at Emmet's shirt. "We were young. You were dying. And I was desperate. I did not want to lose you..."

Emmet pulls back after that, not all the way, but enough to look into Ingo's face. His fangs have retracted, his eyes normal again. "But those details do not matter now, do they?" Emmet sighs out, that sad smile still there.

"They matter. Of course they matter." Ingo protests, but he doesn't elaborate pass that.

Emmet looks at the floor, thinking about his words and looks at Ingo again before saying, "Everything reaches its final terminal."

"Not me." Ingo says. It comes out bitter.

"Everything does." Emmet repeats, shaking his head. He squeezes Ingo's forearm before he lets go. "I did not give you a choice. but you can choose for yourself now."

His brother’s crows feet, a result from decades worth of smiles, crinkle at the edges as he looks at him. "Just as I choose for myself."

Ingo dwells on those words, on what his brother is offering. A choice and a decision to make. Emmet looks at him and Ingo understands.

With a sigh (a concession, a compromise), Ingo nods and accepts Emmet's answer.

That heaviness Ingo feels is not fully gone from his mind, but it has lightened, the tension of the room dispersing like the morning fog.

Emmet notices, smiles, and sits back down to finish his breakfast. Ingo follows. And then the silence is filled anew with his brother's latest retelling of yet another dealing he had with a rude passenger yesterday.

Ingo listens and they both laugh and talk and all is right and as it should be that morning, in their shared moment of time.

Him and his brother were a two car train, always have been, no matter their differences. And no matter what, he was going to be there with him until his brother's final destination.

And then after that, once that engine has long gone cold, Ingo would decide when his last stop was too.

[loud-whistling-yes]

Explaining gender using colours as an analogy, a thought process I have been tracking since I was like 12